Saturday, October 28, 2017

Lobster, With A Straw - Chapter 4

Berating myself for
wallowing in self-pity, I dedicate myself to the task of making Lauren laugh a
few more times before I have to leave, just because she looks beautiful when
she does. She throws her head back, squeezes her eyes shut while her shoulders
jump and her uninhibited laughter is loud enough that people turn their heads around
to us.

I enjoy the fact that
for once I’m not the reason for drawing attention to us. And not everyone looks directly
away again. I guess some are just as mesmerized by Lauren as I am.

Shortly before dessert
is served I feel Lauren’s naked foot brush against my left shin. I startle
violently and nearly knock Romina’s wine glass over. Romina tuts and puts it
further out of my reach. I blink at Lauren who smiles ruefully back at me and
blushes slightly, which leads me to believe that it was really just an
accident.

Only then her naked
foot settles on my left knee.

My leg goes into mild
spasm as a reaction to the touch, the muscles in my thigh quivering slightly
and my knee jumping a bit, but Lauren’s foot stays. I can feel her toes curl
tentatively around my kneecap, like she’s mapping out the contours of the
trembling bone. The beginning of a hoarse groan sounds in the back of my throat
and spasms rattle their way up to my chest.

Lauren places her
elbows on the table and studies me, then quickly turns her eyes away again. She
clears her throat. “So… Patrick…” she says and her voice wavers only a bit. She
picks up her wine glass, her gaze evading mine as she takes a long swig. “You
never told me if you’re seeing someone.”

I emit a strangled
cough, completely taken by surprise. All of this is taking a direction I didn’t
expect anymore.

Lauren’s toes move
along the lower part of my knee and the fingers of my right hand tighten around
the armrest of the chair. The strain makes my arm start to shake against the
sturdy construction, the veins in my hand standing out. At the same time, heat
is rushing south in an alarming rate and all I can think of is Lauren’s naked
foot on my leg, moving further up.

Gosh, what is this
girl doing to me?

“I told you about the
furry companion in my life. So I think it would only be fair if you told me
about yours. Furry or not.” Lauren’s grin is wide and cheeky, her eyes
glinting.

“I’m not… I…” I
struggle with speech and I notice Lauren is leaning forward a bit as if eager
to understand me, her chest heaving under the low cut of her blue dress. All of
a sudden my head is thrown back against the headrest and my tongue momentarily
cuts off my air supply, causing me to panic. I choke a little, wheezing against
the obstruction in my throat but then I manage to force my head forward again
and breathe freely.

I notice Romina
relaxes at my side, her hand lowering from where it has rushed to help me. Unfortunately
though, Lauren’s foot has vanished from my leg almost immediately. She looks at
me with large, slightly scared eyes full of apology, and doesn’t seem to be
interested in carrying this – whatever it was – any further.

God, sometimes I absolutely
detest my stupid body.

The shivers stop
ruining my speech, but that’s only partly a relief. I swallow and manage to
pull myself together. I’m a grown adult after all, at least I thought I was.
“There’re six women in my life,” I say without blinking an eye, tracking Lauren’s
reaction. I sincerely hope she can be distracted.

Lauren slightly lifts
her eyebrows, amused, but the apprehensive look in her eyes doesn’t vanish.

“One of them is my
mother. She’s the best that has ever happened to me, although I should probably
say that I happened to her… Anyway, she’s awesome. Just to make things clear:
she’ll always be my number one.”

Lauren snorts and her
lips move into a small grin. Finally.

“The second one is
Romina. She’s my right hand. And my left. And both of my legs. And more often
than not my brain.”

Romina shakes her head
mildly as she relays and apparently can’t resist to provide details: “Indeed, Patrick
never remembers where he saved the latest version of his talks and he seems to
think that one pair of pants is enough for a week." She subtly reaches
over to clean my lips from spit again. “Really, you won’t believe he’s a genius
if you knew him like I do.”

I groan in protest but
Romina smirks at me. We’ve had that conversation before and she seems to insist
on calling me a genius despite how many times I tell her I don’t agree. I’m not
stupid, no, but I’ve been mostly just lucky and at the right places at the
right times… And I worked hard to get where I am now.

I turn back to a
grinning Lauren and hurriedly continue talking, the color of my cheeks now probably rivaling hers. “Well… yeah, in addition to that I have two very nice
persons alternating in helping me out of bed and assisting me in all that
morning stuff that ordinary people need to do on their own and another two who
do the same only in reversed order in the evenings.”

I’m always open about
the amount of help I need, especially since anything else would be a ridiculous
lie. Sometimes it seems that people don’t think about it at all, however. I
don’t know how in hell they expect me to change my clothes or brush my teeth
when I can’t even control my own saliva, but I’ve had some seriously surprised
reactions to mentioning my aides.

So it’s better to just
throw it out there as early as possible.

Lauren thankfully
doesn’t seem to be bothered. She hums and looks at me, tracing the rim of her
empty wine glass with her fingers, and her gaze is so peculiar it makes my
heartrate speed up again.

In that moment our
waiter arrives. “Strawberry sorbet with wild berries,” he announces and places
beautiful arrangements of ice and berries in front of the others, and a grayish
mass in front of me. Somehow he manages to avoid being struck by my flailing
left arm.

I notice Lauren is still
watching me. Her foot hasn’t returned to my knee and a part of me is grateful
for that while the rest is longing for her to touch me again. But even without her
doing that, I know I’m doomed. I don’t know how Lauren does it, but just
looking at her twirling a lock of dark brown hair around her finger is simply torture.
Only somehow, and absolutely not understandable to me, it seems that there’s
something going on with Lauren, as well. Her breathing has grown a bit
irregular and her pupils are so dilated they’re almost black.

Romina lifts the straw
to my lips but my left arm is behaving so badly, it’s making it difficult for
me to keep my head still. My aide lets the glass with the dessert sink again
with a small sigh and waits for the worst to pass. Lauren seems to grow
increasingly uncomfortable as my spasms promptly crank up a notch, thanks to me
trying to regain some control over my limbs. Her eyes follow every jerking
movement of my body and although this would usually make me feel very
uncomfortable, it’s not the case now.

And then it dawns on
me.

Lauren isn’t staring
just to satisfy her curiosity, no. If I’m not completely mistaken she’s turned on
by what she sees. I can see her breath hitch every time my face contorts with a
grimace, confirming my suspicion that she may enjoy watching me, even if she’s valiantly
trying to hide it. For someone as unpracticed with pleasuring women as me, this
is more than just an interesting finding.

It’s a revolution.

The only thing is: I
still have no clue what exactly makes Lauren go. But I am a scientist right? I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t figure
that out. It’s hard though to form a clear thought when a woman is looking at
you like Lauren is doing right now, as if she’s about to devour me with her
eyes.

After a while I manage
to lift my trembling right hand with some effort to gesture to Romina,
signaling her to try again with the dessert. Promptly, there’s a choked noise
from across the table, sounding like Lauren hides a moan behind her napkin. Our
eyes meet over the straw that Romina tilts in my direction and when I look into
Lauren’s heated face, warmth flushes my cheeks as well. Gosh, Lauren is beautiful
falling apart like this.

I realize in this
moment that as much fun as it is to receive pleasure, it’s at least equally as satisfying
to give pleasure.

If not more.

Lauren sweeps a strand
of hair out of her face, her forehead beginning to glisten. I smile around the
straw through which I haven’t yet managed to pull up any food. My cock pulses
in my pants and releases a drop of precome as Lauren’s eyelids flutter and her
lips part slowly. Unfortunately for me, the entire left side of my body
tightens up at that and I hiss at the uncomfortable sensation.

Romina places the
glass with the dessert back on the table and examines me slightly worried,
leaning forward to look into my face. “Everything okay?” she whispers.

She’s noticed probably
that my body is behaving a bit crazier than what is normal even for me. My left
arm is bent, the fist pressed to my chest and I’m sitting dangerously tilted to
one side. My neck is so stiff I don’t even manage to nod in answer. Instead I
blink at Romina in the hopes that she’ll see the plea in my eyes and just
ignore my body’s weirdness.

“You aren’t coming
down with something, are you?” Romina mumbles quietly, her brows knotted. “You
should maybe get your pump checked.” She slips the end of the straw between my
lips again, this time holding a napkin under my chin with the other hand to
prevent anything to dribble onto my clothes.

I inwardly thank her
for not tying a napkin around my neck in front of everyone in the dining hall and
blink again. I’m relieved that my aide is apparently unsuspecting of what is
going on between Lauren and me, and obediently attempt to suck the blended ice
cream through the straw. Some of it actually makes its way into my stomach
instead of opting out over my chin. It tastes relatively good despite the
color, a bit like any milkshake you could buy around the corner, and better
than the main course by far.

Still, although I put
much effort into controlling it, the higher level of muscle tightness brings
its challenges. A few times my jaw abruptly clenches down on the straw, and
globs of cool liquid drop down the side of my mouth. It makes me cringe every
time it happens but glancing over at Lauren I realize she doesn’t seem to mind.
Her glazed eyes are still trained on me and her ice cream is melting on her
plate, forgotten.

Romina dabs at my lips
and chin with the napkin and tucks at the other end of the straw until it
slides out from between my teeth. “It isn’t smooth enough, is it?” she asks,
sighing, and moves the glass, critically watching the liquid swirling around in
it. One can see darker spots floating in front of the gray background, the
shells of the berries perhaps, and I guess I can feel one of them still
sticking to my palate.

“I’m going to ask them
to blend it a second time,” Romina says, getting up from the table, my glass in
her hand. Her own sorbet is slowly melting on her plate as well. “Okay?”

Between spasms I
manage an affirmative groan before my neck flexes as another series grips my
body. A hoarse whimper escapes me.

I shake my head no at
her, slightly mortified, and hope she will just leave and not continue poking
around. I haven’t had a seizure since I got a device installed in my head and
my medication adjusted many years ago. My brain might be a bit under-supplied
with oxygen right now but it has zero to do with my condition and everything
with that wicked girl sitting across from me.

“Good,” Romina says,
not quite convinced but at least not that concerned anymore. “Because I’m not
sure who’d be paying for flying your dead body home and it’d probably be a
horribly bureaucratic act, so I’d really appreciate you waiting with that until
we’re home.”

I grimace at her. Yep,
I guess my aide has learned her fair share of sarcasm from me. Damn it.

Romina is back to
serious again. “We can leave now, if you want?” she says in a low voice.

This is the last thing
I want, though.

“I’m good,” I manage
to groan out between gritted teeth. “Have never been better.” In fact a bad
spasm day is rarely worse than this. But then again, I usually don’t go out
when in this condition.

In retrospect, Lauren’s
reaction to my sorry attempt at speaking might have tipped Romina off, because Romina
stills and glances quizzically over at Lauren who has managed to knock her
glass of water over. Lauren grins weakly and apologetically, and Romina gives
me a stern look before leaving without further discussion.

I want to shake my
head, which merely makes my legs jump under the table, the footrest complaining
loudly. Lauren swallows thickly and bites her lips again, staring at me. My
breath hitches at the sight and warm shivers run down my limbs, making the
wheelchair rattle. “It’s fine,” I gasp, throwing it out there in my own voice
for good measure. I won’t be able to use the talker anytime soon if I interpret
the signs of my body correctly.

“Jesus…” Lauren
positively moans when the main part of the attack hits me, making my entire
body clench up and convulse. Her eyes flutter close for a second and her
eyebrows dip together. My legs are folding tightly at the knees and trembling
violently, and the crooked fingers of my right hand close around the armrest as
I’m trying to brace myself against the assault from my body. I manage to lift
my head to look over at Lauren and for a second I’m distracted by a pearl of
sweat running into her décolleté.

Then a violent spasm
makes my body jolt and my back overstretch spectacularly, every single vertebra
screaming.

“It’s um… warm in
here, isn’t it?” The blond guy asks Lauren.

Lauren only fleetingly
looks at him but she nods, flapping air with her hand into her face. “Oh god
yes, so very hot.” Her voice has dropped a few pitches, touching something deep
within me.

I want Lauren so badly
but I know there’s nothing she can do for me now. People are sending glances
over to us, guiltily watching the weird guy in the wheelchair being ripped
apart by spasms. I can feel their eyes on me as the straps around my chest cut
deep into the skin when my upper body is rocking forward, throwing itself into
the restraints. My left arm contracts, pressing against my side, while my right
hand is clenched into the armrest. I couldn’t let go even if I wanted to. In
contrast to normally, though, I lack the shame upon being watched in this
state. The skin-crawling feeling that makes me wish I were invisible is
completely absent. The thought of Lauren being aroused by me, even if I’m still
having a hard time to figure out why that is exactly, is all I care about. I
realize that I’d probably let thousands of people watch if Lauren was one of
them.

I hear Lauren gasp and
her wine glass clink as she places it back on the table, the impact slightly
harder than what would be normal.

“Your ice cream…” I
force out between painfully clenched teeth, perfectly aware the Lauren probably
won’t understand a single thing because my speech is beyond comprehensibility.
I’m not even sure Romina would manage to make out anything of it. Lauren’s
knuckles turning white around the table’s edge tell me that I’m on the right
path, though. “It won’t… taste better…. when it’s melted, I tell you.” I need
to make long breaks between words because my throat is seizing and my chest
contracting, and I need most of the air that I manage to inhale for actual
breathing.

Lauren leans forward
and a shudder goes through her body.

There’s a series of
terrible grimaces disfiguring my face and making it impossible to even attempt
speech. When I regain a fraction of control, I gasp: “It’d be a shame if
something as delicious as this dessert should go wasted…” A guttural groan is
pumped out of my chest, my throat feeling raw as the sound forces its way
through and then it’s all suddenly over.

I’m sinking down in my
chair with a hoarse sigh, my head lowering so I can’t see Lauren anymore. I can
only hear her gasp. And then still in her chair.

Let me tell you that:
There’s never been a better sound.

It takes a while for
my body to recover from the torture it was put through, my muscles still aching
faintly with the memory of the spasm attack. I force myself to steadily breathe
through my nose and think of something else than the glorious fantasy of Lauren’s
fingers on my skin or her hot body against mine, although it’s quite difficult.
My muscles are too slack for what I experience as normalcy but I manage to
plant my right foot more firmly onto the footrest and push up a bit, settling
myself as upright as possible on my own, my head falling back and against the
headrest again. I turn it with some difficulty and see that Lauren has switched
onto Romina’s seat.

“Drink?” she asks
quietly and tips my glass to me. I have transitioned to water long ago, too
much alcohol doesn’t mix well with neither the spasms nor my medication.

“Hngh…” I manage a nod
and gulp down water as if I’m about to die of thirst, Lauren’s fiery eyes
burning on me.

“Is he okay?”
chimpanzee begins to ask dumbly and with a mixture of alarm and sensationalism
in his features but Lauren puts him to silence with one single glare. The blond
guy next to Lauren is looking from me to her, incredulous understanding so
slowly dawning on his face I almost choke on my drink because I can’t stop
grinning.

I turn back to Lauren
and want to type something on the screen but my right arm has fallen into the
gap between my thigh and the armrest of the wheelchair and it feels much too
heavy to pick up right now. My tongue isn’t cooperating at all and nothing more
than a rattling groan comes out of my mouth.

I
can’t even thank Lauren,
I can’t tell her how amazing I think she is, I can’t tell her that I’ve
never felt myself falling for anyone so quickly in my life, I can’t, I
can’t—

“Hey…” Lauren says
softly, and then she lifts her hand and dabs at my chin with a napkin.

I freeze instantly at
the intimate gesture that I hate so much and that condenses all of my worst
shortcomings in a painful way but I relax against the strap around my chest
when I see her blissed-out smile never fades. There’s no pity in her eyes, only
warmth.

And the strung-out
expression of someone who has had a very good time.

It’s all I need to
know.

“That was fucking hot,
Patrick,” she whispers and smiles at me. “Thank you.”

Lauren
apparently doesn’t really care if our seat neighbors hear her, and a
comfortable shudder crawls down my spine. All I can do is smile at her with joy
and gratitude but I hope it conveys what I’m feeling because in this moment I
think I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.

14 comments:

This is the devviest thing I've read, ever. Oh my goodness. It's so lovely that Patrick realizes in time Lauren's "special interest" - such a delicious game of secret mutual enjoyment. (And I still love Romina's brisk attitude and dry humor, too.)

I can't even imagine how you're going to continue upping the ante from here... but I trust you to do it amazingly.

Haha, Rowan, thanks! I‘m so happy you like this chapter :) It was great fun to write, I had something like that in mind from the very beginning of the story and I was glad it turned out the way I wanted. And I’m glad that I’m not the only one liking it :D

I've got to say I'm with everyone else on this, but Rowan said it - their 'game' they got going on was probably the most attractive thing about this. His realisation, and at the end when she thanked him... Gorgeous. Thank you for this story! :D

Welcome!

This blog contains erotic and romantic stories featuring disabled male love interests. If you would like to contribute a story or would like to be a regular contributor, email me at paradevo(at)yahoo.com.